


Recycling

by Dbaw3



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Watersports, good citizenship, human urinal, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dbaw3/pseuds/Dbaw3
Summary: John and Stiles set off something of a grassroots campaign.





	Recycling

**Author's Note:**

> Another originally-a-photocap-story-from-tumblr.

Stiles teased him a lot about it, but John was the first to admit—with a bit of shame at how uncivic-minded he’d been—that he’d been reluctant the first time Stiles suggested he piss in his mouth.

It was one of those rare evenings when they were both home at the same time and got to have dinner together. That meant they were watching the same program on PBS about water conservation efforts across the globe. 

“Huh,” had been Stiles’ initial reaction. John hadn’t thought any more about it until Stiles had brought it up a few days later as a suggestion.

California was in yet another drought situation, as it often was, and there was a moratorium on any “unnecessary” use of water.

“I think they’re just talking about us not watering our lawn,” John argued, but Stiles persisted.

“It makes sense, Dad,” he’d argued. “We’ll save water AND money on our bills. Like that documentary.”

John admitted, it did make a lot of sense, but there was just something really weird about the idea. When he finally started to relent a few days later, Stiles rolled his eyes as he reached in a cabinet to get a glass. 

“Dad, c'mon. It’s not going to save much water if we have to turn around and wash a glass, is it?” Stiles argued. 

John again thought he could see the sense in that, and while it took a few moments to…loosen up, as it were, John was soon pissing into his son’s open mouth, while Stiles gulped down everything that he could. 

It wasn’t perfect that first time. Stiles couldn’t catch everything, and had problems keeping up, but that’s why they had decided to try it the first time with Stiles kneeling naked in the bathtub. But after John had shaken off the last drips into his son’s mouth, and zipped up as Stiles gasped and licked his lips, John asked, “So how was it?”

Stiles thought for a second, then said, “A little salty, but okay. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

They went on for a few weeks like that, and Stiles had to remind him–quite eagerly, John thought–to piss in his mouth when he forgot and started towards the bathroom.

It didn’t take long, however, until he was not only nudging Stiles awake in the middle of the night to empty his bladder, but actually holding it during the day until Stiles got home. (Sometimes he was so desperate by that point, he’d be shoving a startled Stiles to his knees the second he got in the door, sighing in relief even before the front door was fully closed.)

John didn’t think a lot about it, otherwise, just because it became so routine. He’d gotten so used to the idea, in fact, that when he was getting coffee in the breakroom at the station, and a couple of the guys were discussing the drought and the latest bans on watering lawns, etc., he brought up his own household water conservation effort.

When he realized no one had said anything, he turned from the counter with his mug of coffee in hand to see the other two men giving him odd looks.

“What?” he asked, feeling a bit self-conscious. “There was this thing on PBS.”

The thing was, not long after that, he started to see a few signs which said “Low Flush Household” on a few proudly brown lawns around town. He didn’t think much about it until he overheard one of the deputies share that his own son had volunteered to help the house conserve water and lower their utility bills. He did cough and break it up when Ted started talking about how his boy had a mouth like a Hoover.

Something John hadn’t mentioned to anyone was that was something else Stiles had volunteered to take care of in the name of conserving water. John had been a little more hesitant about it at first, but as Stiles pointed out–staring at John’s dick the whole time–was that since he was pissing in it anyway, it wasn’t much of a stretch for John to jerk-off into it, and save not only doing it in the toilet, but saving his laundry bill from doing it in bed. Which, John was aware, wasn’t quite the same as him face-fucking his son, like he had last night, or the fact that Stiles now spent more evenings than not just warming his father’s cock while John flipped through TV channels. But they didn’t talk about it, either.

They didn't talk about it, either, after the first time he came home and passed by Stiles' room, looking through the open door to see Stiles kneeling at Scott's feet, Scott obviously relieving himself in his best friend's mouth. 

“Wow,” Scott said, looking down at Stiles with his goofy, crooked grin. “You're so right: this is much nicer than doing it in the toilet.”

John really wasn’t aware of much changing outside of his own house until the day the mayor showed up in his office.

“So, I hear you’ve started something of a grass roots movement, Sheriff,” he said jovially.

John just looked at him confused. “I'm sorry, sir?”

“Your recycling efforts? The ‘Low Flush Households’? You’ve started something of a revolution,” he answered.

John really couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “There was this show on PBS.”

The mayor waved that away. “The thing is, it really does seem to be working: fewer people flushing toilets–and fewer glasses of water being drunk–means we’re ahead of the game as far as our water conservation efforts go, definitely more than some of the other towns in the state. But we think we can do more.”

Which is how John found himself with Stiles in a photography studio, getting ready to become poster boys for a movement.

As the mayor explained, the town council had decided they wanted to be more proactive on this, and get more people involved. So, they were going to start a registration program and tax incentives: any household with at least one member registered as a “water recycler” would receive tax breaks in the next year. Registered recyclers could also receive discounts at downtown shops if they presented their IDs which would now include a little R sticker, indicating they were a household recycler.

But all of this couldn’t just happen by word of mouth, the mayor insisted. They needed to advertise.

John was a little nervous at first, though Stiles seemed to have enough enthusiasm for both of them. It was just that John had never pissed in Stiles outside of the house or in front of anyone–except for the guys who’d come over for the game, and Stiles had happily volunteered to take care of their ‘needs’ as well. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get a good “flow” going in front of a stranger. 

His fears proved unfounded, however, and the photoshoot ended up being relatively painless. And the posters, once he saw them, were tastefully done. 

Most were just him and Stiles standing together, smiling at the camera, John’s arm proudly around his shoulder, as the text proclaimed he was proud his son was a volunteer water recycler.

The other posters had similar text, and could be found all over town. Occasionally you’d see the one where you just saw John from behind, his pants up but obviously open, and you could see Stiles kneeling in front of him. What was going on was more inferred than anything.

His favorite, though, he had to go out and buy, then had framed to hang in his office with pride. It was a close-up of Stiles, mouth open, a stream flowing straight into his mouth as he swallowed. The text praised him for his “civic-mindedness” and had him declaring, “I’m proud to recycle and conserve water in this house!”

John was proud of that, too.


End file.
